Hell Bent by Devon Monk Page A

blinked, and the only thing that convinced me I was walking was that the place was moving past me.
    “Spiked my drink,” I said.
    Now we were standing outside.
    “Yes, I did.”
    “Naughty girl.”
    She sighed. We were moving again. Around the corner. “I am sorry about this. You could have just agreed. It would have been easier.”
    “You knew I wouldn’t. Otherwise why spike the shot?”
    “I wasn’t sure I could be convincing enough. One thing you need to know about me, Shamus Flynn? I never give up.”
    I would have told her the one thing she should know about me is I never do things the easy way, but the world was a blender of light and darkness. I didn’t know what she’d dropped in my drink, but it was not a drug or magic I was familiar with.
    That worried me.
    Could I use magic to get myself out of this? Sure, if I could concentrate long enough to trace the glyph of a spell.
    So: no.
    Could I just drain down her life?
    Strangely, and really, most frighteningly of all, I couldn’t even think straight enough to do that. That drink had pushed magic—even Death magic—way out of my reach.
    “Here we are,” she said. “You can just relax. Lie down. Let me take care of everything.”
    “I don’t even know your last name,” I mumbled. I thought she was easing me into the back of her car. I was pretty sure I heard a car door open.
    But I’d gotten that wrong too.
    She’d popped the trunk. And gave me a shove down into it.
    “You have got to be kidding me,” I laughed as the world spun and shook.
    “No. I am completely serious about this. Deadly, even.”
    She leaned above me, her lips slightly open as she adjusted something near my head. And all I could think of was I should kiss that woman.
    What can I say? I like a woman who can surprise me. She’d certainly done that.
    Too bad I couldn’t move.
    “You should be comfortable,” she was saying. “And don’t even think about using magic. It won’t work.”
    Too late. I was already thinking about it. But that was about all I was doing. Because the lumpiness I was lying on wasn’t the spare tire and crowbar. It was Void stones. As a matter of fact, the entire trunk was lined with them, completely canceling my ability to draw on magic.
    The woman knew how to plan ahead. I wondered if she’d lined the top of the trunk too.
    “I’d tell you to get some sleep,” she said. “But this is going to be a bumpy ride, so just try not to get a concussion.”
    As the trunk slammed shut, I noted that yes indeed. The inside of the lid was lined with Void stones too.
    Damn. I really should have kissed her.

Chapter 8
    Here’s where I act the hero and do something smart, like call someone. Or do something brave, like kick out the trunk. Or come up with a sneaky plan, like find the biggest Void stone so I could brain the bitch.
    Instead I got nauseated and unconscious. In that order.
    I came to no longer in the trunk. I had no memory of walking or of her dragging me. But somehow she had managed to get me into a motel room and strap me down to a chair.
    This was so not how I had imagined spending the night with her. Well, not the first night, anyway.
    She was pacing. It was the thump, thump of her flat bootheels on the carpet that had brought me awake.
    Thump, thump , pause.
    “You are a very bad girl,” I said. It came out a little ragged. Whatever she’d poisoned me with had done some damage to my throat on the way down.
    “You do make me want to do bad things to you.” Her fingers drew across my shoulders and even though I was still clothed, I felt it like a lick of heat that made me shudder with need.
    No fair. Focus, Flynn. She doesn’t mean those kinds of bad things.
    “Aren’t you the sweetest?” I said. “How about you give a guy back some feeling in his hands?”
    She finally walked around from behind me.
    She was wearing a red satin bra and panties. And her combat boots.
    And nothing else.
    Well, a smile.
    Holy shit. Maybe she did mean